I shouldn't have
by ylemon
Summary: Barbara realizes there can be worse than a mere hangover after too many drinks.
1. Chapter 1

I shouldn't have.

I had this revelation shortly after four a.m. as the alcoholic daze I was in cleared.

I should never have.

It had been a good day though: nearly two years of investigation had led to the conviction of a sexual predator who had made four little victims.

The atmosphere was festive and I accepted Winston's invitation to go and celebrate at the pub.

That was a mistake.

I shouldn't have.

Shouldn't have drunk this pint with him.

Shouldn't have taken another one to drink with Lynley when he arrived.

Shouldn't have taken the beer chaser he offered me.

Shouldn't have drunk a third pint over dinner and, above all, I shouldn't have accepted Lynley's offer to share the taxi.

I shouldn't have invited him in, shouldn't have let him kiss me and I should never, absolutely never, have shown him I wanted him but flesh is weak and, I can as well admit it now, I've always had a crush on him.

I watch him sleep peacefully near me now, oblivious to the torments that assail me.

Will he regret it too when he wakes up?

Knowing him, he will be cross with himself, will feel like he took advantage of my intoxication when I was the one who pushed him down onto the bed.

I shouldn't have and now I dread the consequences, afraid I ruined my life once again.

It's easy to do without what you don't know but how am I supposed to cope with my lonely life now I know the softness of his lips and the warmth of his body?

I wish we could forget that night, pretend it never happened.

I wish we could stay friends.

Tommy…

I shouldn't have.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note. I took some of you at their word and wrote a second chapter. The idea originated from Leonie's review. Hope you'll enjoy it.

* * *

I emerge from the limbo with great difficulties.

My tongue is swollen and feels too big for my mouth while a mad drummer performs his masterpiece solo in my head.

Memories from the previous evening come to mind. The conviction. The party at the pub. Way too many drinks…

I'm glad I have two days off so I can rest in bed a little longer.

Wait…

This is not _my_ bed.

I roll over and grope about in the dark.

Yep, definitely not my bed.

I run my hands on my body and wince.

I'm stark naked.

I sigh and, as if on cue, someone in the room lights up a lamp.

I can see the light behind my closed eyelids but, whoever is in the room, they don't say a word.

Who is it?

I need to know but I'm not sure I want to.

I slowly open my eyes.

' _Morning, Sir.'_

Havers…This is a nightmare.

Of all the women in that pub, I had to pick Barbara Havers.

The prickliest and most insecure woman I know.

My sergeant. My closest friend. The one person in my life I can't afford to lose. For my sake and hers.

She looks awful; I bet her hangover's as bad as mine.

'Morning,' I said and my voice echoes painfully in my skull.

My voice is croaked as if I had chain-smoked a packet of cigarettes.

I can even smell the smoke.

I rub my eyes and see that it's actually Havers who's smoking.

Dressed in a worn and frankly ugly dressing gown she's leaning against the wall opposite the bed.

'Isn't that a bit too cliché?' I ask.

'What?'

'The cigarette-after-love thing.'

She shrugs.

'It wasn't love so…'

'Wasn't it?'

The words pass my lips on their own volition and I'm as surprised as she is.

For the briefest of time her face softens but she quickly pulls herself together and glares at me.

'You're taking the piss, aren't you? We were sloshed. Didn't mean anything,' she says between pulls on her fag.

'Barbara…'

Is that the flicker of a sad smile on her lips or is my mind playing me tricks?

'Barbara,' I say again, more firmly.

'What?'

She's crossed. Even with the mother of all hangovers, I can tell.

'I'm sorry.'

'Ah,' she snorts, 'I knew you'd say that.'

'I shouldn't have…'

The words dry on my lips.

'I wish…'

What? That it'd never happened? That'd be a lie.

'I wish the circumstances were different.'

'Yeah, me too but what's done's done so there's no good going on and on about it. Let's forget this happened.'

'I don't want to forget,' I say.

'Come on, you already have. Before I lit up you were wondering where the fuck you were.'

'I'm in a daze all right but that doesn't mean I don't remember what happened last night.'

I hope it sounds more convincing to her ears than to mine.

'You were shocked to see me; you were expecting someone else.'

'I didn't expect anyone, Barbara.'

'You just hoped it wouldn't be me.'

'Yes. No! I mean, no! Of course, no.'

'Don't bother. I know I'm not up to your standard.'

'I don't have any standard!'

She stubs out her cigarette; she's about to leave the room.

That's typical of her. Why talk things out when you can simply walk away and withdraw into your shell?

Except I won't let her run away. Not this time. I get up, realize for the second time I've no clothes on, and quickly wrap myself inside the sheet.

She tries to look unfazed but I caught her glimpsing at my nether regions. I decide to take that as an encouragement.

'Look, Barbara, you're important to me…'

I must have said something very wrong because she rushes out of the bedroom.

Entangled in the sheet, I follow her in the kitchen.

'Can't you just talk to me?' I ask, my exasperation obvious.

She turns swiftly and glares at me.

'I don't want to talk,' she hisses, 'I don't want to hear what you're going to say. Is that so difficult to understand?'

'You don't know what I'm going to say.'

I'm not sure I know myself.

'Last night,' I begin.

'It was a mistake, I know.'

'You're right, it was a mistake. We were too drunk to realize what we were doing but I do care about you…'

'Stop that!'

'Barbara…'

'Stop now! I don't want to hear the part where you tell me we're good friends, and that was nice but…'

'So you found it was nice?' I ask stupidly.

'Don't you ever listen? You want to talk but you only hear what you want to hear!'

'Sorry, that was inappropriate. What I'm trying to say, Barbara, is that it doesn't have to be a one-night-stand.'

'I don't want to be your friend with benefits.'

'My what?'

'Your friend with…Oh, forget it. I don't want to have sex with you for the fun of it until you find someone you'll fell in love with.'

'That's not what I was proposing!'

'Oh really?'

She eyes me suspiciously.

'I was going to say that maybe we could give it a try. You and me. Seriously. What happened last night was a mistake because we were drunk but it was no accident. Something's been going on between us for quite some time. The alcohol didn't make us go crazy, it simply broke down our barriers. I told you, I wish the circumstances were different, I wish we'd become closer, more intimate, before jumping into bed. I don't wish we never made love.'

'We're friends.'

'We're more than that and it started long before yesterday.'

At least, she doesn't protest. I want to convince her but it's hard to sound convincing when all you're wearing is a sheet.

'Barbara, I care for you, deeply, and I'm sure you care for me too. We may have been drunk yesterday but I don't think for a minute that you would have gone to bed with anyone.'

'Contrary to you, you mean?'

'I'm not going to pretend I always made judicious choices. If you agree, we could say last night was a false start and start all over again. What do you think?'

'You want to date me?'

She looks at me with big round eyes. She doesn't believe I could love her and it hurts me more than I could say.

'Yes, I do. Do you want to be my girlfriend?'

'For real?' she asked.

She's still not sure but I've the feeling she wants to believe me.

'Cross my heart,' I say.

And then the miracle happens.

She smiles at me, the most beautiful smile I've ever seen, and comes into my arms. She puts her arms around my waist and rests her head on my chest. Her dressing gown has opened a bit and I can feel that she's naked under it. She presses herself against me and I have an erection.

'Tommy?'

I like how my name sounds when she says it.

'Do you remember what we did last night? Don't lie.'

'It's a bit blurred,' I say frankly.

She chuckles.

'Yeah, for me too. We've two days off in front of us. What about we build ourselves clearer memories?'

'Sounds like a good plan. Where do you want to start?'

She gently pulls my head down and whispers into my ear things that are not suitable for anyone under 18.

Luckily, I'm older than that.


End file.
